


Brave

by Val_Creative



Category: His Dark Materials (TV), His Dark Materials - Philip Pullman
Genre: Angst and Feels, Episode Related, F/M, Humor, Missing Scene, Romantic Friendship, Season/Series 02
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-17
Updated: 2020-11-17
Packaged: 2021-03-10 01:00:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 800
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27575542
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Val_Creative/pseuds/Val_Creative
Summary: Will can feel something closing in on him. Destiny or darkness, or whatever it is. (Between Episode 1 and 2.)
Relationships: Lyra Belacqua/Will Parry
Comments: 21
Kudos: 53





	Brave

**Author's Note:**

> I've read all of the books and I know what happens BUT THAT CLIFFY. I JUST WANTED TO DO SOMETHING ABOUT IT. I was writing this in [Glove23](https://www.archiveofourown.org/users/Glove23/pseuds/Glove23)'s askbox on Tumblr and decided it needed to be posted on here. Anyway! More episodes are here and incoming! This is fantastic! I've loved LyraWill since I was itty bitty and this is my first (published) fic for them. ❤︎❤︎❤︎ I hope all of my fellow LyraWill fans enjoy this! Any thoughts/comments appreciated! Are you enjoying Season 2?

*

For a moment, Will thinks he sees the shadows thrum and vanish around the corner of his eye. 

_Spectres._

Will's mind burns with the image of a iridescent blade on a knife. 

The tower— _the tower_ is waiting for him. 

He stares up at it from a distance, his naked toes freezing against the cold and dirtied cobblestone street. The harder the wind blows against him, the more Will senses it. He's being stalked like a poor, witless creature lost in the night. 

The electric lights— _anbaric_ , Lyra told him—flicker. 

Bile rises in the back of Will's throat. 

It's closer. It's rearing up just out of reach and gravitating towards him, like dripping midnight claws. 

Will's body tenses. He can throw a punch. He can hurt whatever it is if it feels pain. Or at least Will hopes so. 

The hairs on the back of Will's neck prickle. 

Now, his body commands. 

_Now._

_Do it now—_

"Will?"

Lyra's voice drifts into the street-alley. Raspy-soft and familiar. Will turns his head round, gazing to her standing in the cafe's doorway. The electric street lanterns no longer flicker. The air feels lighter. Will's heart races quickly inside him.

"What are you doing?" he asks, confused.

An offended noise leaves her. 

"What am I doing, aye?" Lyra replies. "I en't the one standing out in the dark on his own without shoes." But instead of looking angry, she observes how Will's chest heaves erratically. His expression pinched. "Did'ya hear something?"

"Might have…" Will murmurs, suddenly uneasy to look around.

"You're acting mad."

Will shivers a little and wipes the perspiration off his brow. 

He knows… _whatever it was_ … it's gone. Almost as if it sensed Lyra approaching.

"Were you looking for me?" he points out, taking a step back from the alley.

Lyra's mouth curls in frustration.

"No," she says stubbornly, but it only makes Will feel better. There's something different about her. Besides the demon— _daemon_ , Will corrects himself, which he doesn't have. "I just didn't see you when I came downstairs. S'all."

"So then, you were looking for me," Will says, beaming as Lyra rolls her eyes good-naturedly. "Does that mean you consider us friends?"

"No," she repeats, and Pantalaimon stifles an amused chirp as a tern. "It means… we're exploring together. But _not_ friends."

"You're a bad liar, Lyra Silvertongue."

Something about this makes her puff up her chest in dismay. "She's actually a very good liar—but not right now, I guess," Pantalaimon announces, having shifted into a snowy white ermine with little black eyes. Will doesn't know how to explain that.

A low laugh escapes Will. Lyra hisses out Pantalaimon's name, nearly stomping her foot.

That's when something soars at their heads, clobbering the wall next to Lyra's head.

Rotten yellow egg dribbles visibly.

Will's stomach tosses at the disgusting odour and he glances behind him. A few kids living in Cittàgazze retreat, making vulgar gestures and yelling out like animals. They're unidentifiable in the long, jumping shadows, and it could be Angelica. Could not.

A snarl escapes Lyra. 

"Hold on," Will murmurs, blocking her and grabbing Lyra's arms. She lurches in his hands, to go after the kids, but doesn't get far. "Don't," he murmurs again, looking into her eyes. The colour of the browned hornbeam trees. "Don't… it's not worth it."

_"I'll kill 'em—"_

There's flecks of egg on Lyra's cheek. She's bright red, and thrashing, and all Will can feel is a kind of harsh emptiness. 

"You don't know," he mumbles. "You _don't_ _know_ a damn thing about killing—or else you wouldn't have said that." Will's fingers grip tightly on Lyra's upper arms and that somehow settles her. That, or it's to do with overly fascinated look she gives him.

Without saying anything else, Will marches into the cafe. 

His feet shouldn't be cold. Everything feels warm in the air like the Mediterranean. He's never been there, but it must feel like this. Will hunches on the downstairs bedding, inclining his head and fidgeting with a quilt when Lyra reenters.

"S'rry," Lyra grumbles, avoiding Will's eyes just as much as he is hers. "I can… make _omelette_ tomorrow morning. For you."

She still says it funny. The corners of Will's mouth twitch up.

"I'll show you how to cook beans instead," he says, watching as Lyra's face softens. She's pretty when she's not scowling. She's pretty anyway, and Will wouldn't dare voice that. Even if he was brave enough, Will thinks she might wallop him for trying to.

Lyra nods. "Alright."

"Night, Lyra."

There's a moment of hesitation before she bounds up the stair with Pantalaimon trailing after her as a red-bellied fox. "Night!" Lyra bellows, sounding excited. Will hears her footsteps and rubs his hands over his face, covering up a smile.

*


End file.
